A cheery yet twisted debaucherous bedtime story for all you naughty little subbies out there, guaranteed to knock your sissy stockings off ;)

(Written By: Miss Mila)

We wish you a happy, horny holidays!

(P.S. - Scroll down to the bottom for some merry, Mean Girl Family photos…)

Enjoy!

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Twas a cold, ominous, December night at the Mean Girl residence.

The city was bustling with tourists and people running around like worker bees, getting last minute shopping and work done before the holidays.

But little did they know, the New York underground was just as bustling and hectic as you can imagine…

Sissy maids, house boys, and rubber gimp butlers were in full force; cleaning, decorating, waiting on the Dominas hand and foot, scurrying throughout the house to create a comfortable, festive atmosphere for the Goddesses to dwell in. footboys, footstools, human-lamps, errand boys, doggies, pets, pigs, you name it, were all called upon to help commemorate and celebrate this joyous, and debaucherous time! There was certainly no room for mistakes, and everyone knew proper punishments were called-for if things didn’t go smoothly.

You see, the holidays were a very important time of year in the kink world. Almost every holiday always brought mutual feelings of celebration, a sense of community, and all-around guiltless fun. Minds were free to let-go, endorphins were tirelessly pumping, and of course, all this excitement really got the blood flowing….down there. If you know what I mean...

It was a time to come together no matter who you were or where you came from, to indulge in the pleasures of life! And in a chaotic place like New York City, this reprieve from everyday life was just NEEDED.

As you may already know, the domain in which the Soho Mean Girls existed, work and play were often synonymous, and the two basically meant the same thing… which meant DOUBLE the festivities and DOUBLE the fun!

And so, this is where Our story really begins….

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*RING RING RING*

A small gold bell chimes throughout the House. A sound all too familiar to the dungeon-staff, who were all well-trained to react accordingly. Each and every member of the Soho Dungeon were assigned specific jobs based on their individual talents, and were all trained to perfectly execute such talents by their assigned Mistresses. And of course, all were delighted to have such a privilege.

“RING RING RIIIING”

A perfectly manicured hand waves the gold bell again.

A teasing, condescending voice chimes in along with the bell. We see it’s the blue-haired Goddess, Mistress Lady Luger. She stands in front of the SMG Human Christmas Tree, a tradition started since the Soho Mean Girls’ inception. It was a kinky, different approach to your otherwise boring and lifeless Christmas tree, that was displayed in the dungeon every year around the holidays.

Luger shouts across the house, hands on her hips, “sissy! sissy samantha….get your ass in here!”

A short lanky sissy boy adorned in a specially made green and red frilly maid dress, scuttles over, arms full of shiny holiday decorations.

Without missing beat, the sissy bows his head and shuffles over to the human tree, which is basically exactly how you would imagine: A freakishly tall, bulky, statue of a male, adorned in a leather gimp mask, rendered immobile and restrained by yards of blinking colorful Christmas lights, and layers of shimmery garland wrapped around his massive body. On top of his thick skull, a single 8-inch platform heel is balanced perfectly on display, acting as the “star” on the human tree. A universal symbol of dominance, show-casing not only the gimps rightful place, but the entire house-holds proper place.

The tiny sissy lifts his little arms and starts to hook the ornaments onto the gimps limbs. sissy and gimp; both working hard together to please the Goddesses in any possible way they could.

Coming up from the basement, a bunch of The Girls just got finished with a group session, still high off the thrill of it all, laughing as they entered the main hall, already gossiping about the poor little subbie they just toyed with. The sound of their boots and heels clacking through the halls was enough to get the whole house-staff excited and grateful that they were each a part of something great...something powerful. It was all music to their ears, among other things...

Right on cue, the main house sissy, daisy, hurries over to the group. He carries a silver tray prepared with chilled Champagne to help them cool down. Barely even acknowledging the measly sissy, the Girls tower over his feeble frame, each taking a glass as they make a small toast:

The group share proud smiles and more words of encouragement. As the glasses clink, the sissy curtseys and hurries off to perform more tasks for his favorite Goddesses, with a little smile on his eager face.

———————————

As the Ladies walk through the dungeon: some bark orders at the little subbies working like clockwork. Others lounge and relax by a gorgeous stone fireplace in the living room. Miss Lady Luger kicks off Her boots, and sets Her feet up by the roaring fire, on top of a willing, human-footstool of course.

Suddenly a quiet, but deep voice enters from the hall.

“Excuse Me, My Goddesses...”

One of the house-butlers enters, clean-cut, adorned in all rubber-everything, down to his fancy bow-tie. He motions a gloved hand towards the front door.

“Delivery has arrived, if you will.”

Behind him, a short, stocky delivery boy emerges, carrying paper bags of take-out, his wide eyes scanning the room in awe of just about….everything. (Because let’s be honest; a dark, sleek, yet dazzling dungeon full curious toys and gadgets, and of course tall, alluring Goddesses, were definitely something you didn’t see everyday as a vanilla folk…)

His gaze falls upon the Goddesses, like a kid entering some kind of surreal dreamscape, paying close attention to their matching, red and white holiday outfits. Short leather skirts, thigh high boots and sheer stockings, sexy red tops, and cute Santa hats framing their glossy, perfectly primped hair. The Dominas all stare back, eyeing him like another piece of man-meat, yet can’t help but be amused by his apparent naiveté.

Mistress Natasha smirks and leans over to Miss Mila, who is in the midst of receiving a foot rub by a half-naked, masked foot-boy.

Confidently, Natasha whispers, “This one should be an easy catch…”

Mila smirks, already scheming their next move.

The delivery boy attempts to blurt something out, his arm holding out the paper bags, half trembling from his pulsing nerves, half shaking from the cold. His chubby cheeks, rosy-red from the wintry winds outside, flush into an even deeper crimson. He shuffles his weight, trying to adjust and cover up the bulge beginning to swell in his snow-pants.

Before he can get a word out, Mistress Cynthia rises slowly from Her velvet chaise lounge and struts over to the soon-to-be fresh meat...

Her angelic aura practically drifts over to him. Her sultry voice emanates from Her perfect pouty red lips,

“Oh, are you cold? It’s so terribly frigid outside…Here, why don’t you come in, closer by the fire…”

Her wide, unwavering gaze pierces straight through the delivery boy, who starts to shrink smaller and smaller the closer Goddess Cynthia gets, as if melting right in front of Her.

But “melting” was an understatement. He was already entranced, enraptured, and purely enamored by Her crystal, doll-like eyes, framed by long flowy lashes. But what really cut through him was what was behind those otherworldly eyes...…Hypnotic to say the least. A hidden heavenscape, gleaming through Her sky-blue pupils. So angelic, yet invasive. Intimidating. He felt his soul starting to ooze out from underneath his flesh. Tons of simultaneous sensations, all frightening, yet incredibly alluring...

Was it the mind-numbing cold making him see things? Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? His mind and heart were fluttering a million miles a minute. How did he even get here? His memory was already breaking into fragments. His body, still as stone.

So many new, terrifying feelings washed over him, but the throbbing ache for more, (whatever more was), was starting to drive him into a frenzy. Cynthia’s sheer mesmerizing Power, already taking him down without even touching him…

Her delicate hand brushes down on his rosy cheek, coercing him towards the warm, beckoning fire. The wild, blazing flames reflecting in his wide eyes. He doesn’t dare resist, already slipping off his coat, all of a sudden sweating bullets. The rest of the Girls rise and guide him towards a staircase, leading him to one of the most unforgettable places in the land of kink...A place where rare dreams, and kinky fantasies manifest into waking reality…Deep into the depths of the Soho Mean Girls Domaine.

—————————————-

It took no time at all for the delivery boys clothes to slip off him like melted butter. His trembling legs finally give out and he falls to his knees, landing on the cold, hard, stone floor. Pairs of shiny black boots encircle him. The shadows of ropes, chains, and thickly-woven cat-o-nine tails spread across the brick walls.

Mistress Luger lets out a laugh, and nudges the lumpy-looking delivery boy with Her boot.

“Looks like this little bitch snowman is already starting to melt at the sight of Us.”

Natasha chimes in, lifting his head up by his hair, “But not too quickly little snow-bitch...We might just have a use for you.”

The rest of the Girls can’t help but grin at the thought.

Miss Mila leans over and inspects the mound of meat prostrated at their heels, then gasps…

“Oh my God…it’s like a…baby carrot!”

She points Her riding crop towards the snowmans sad looking crotch, and the rest of the Girls burst out laughing.

Mistress Natasha squints, straining to see whats clearly not there.

“Where is it?? Did a reindeer bite it and run off with it?”

Lady Luger chimes in, “Might as well shovel a hole in his backside and make him Our permanent snow-bitch.”

The wild laughter echoes through the dungeon, loud enough for the whole house to start blushing.

It’s apparent the melting, helpless delivery boy has completely given himself up. He doesn’t even care what’s to come. He is just anxious and utterly excited in every sense of the word. So excited, that his pathetic baby carrot between his lumpy legs starts to throb.

Mistress Natasha shoves Her shiny boot in his face, “Kiss, you pathetic snowman!”

He doesn't fight. He doesn’t utter a word. His body just reacts to their taunting demands. He doesn't care if it’s wrong or right. He just feels….good. It was as simple as that.

The other girls proceed to each grab an implement, ready to bring some Hellish heat down on this already sweating mound of snow…

The snow-bitch dips down and presses his cold lips to Natashas sleek black boots. In an instant, his mouth wells up saliva, already drooling. He licks his lips then sticks his tongue out for more. Never did he think patent leather would ever taste this….incredible.

But the Girls had way more planned for their new toy….

Thanks to Cynthias swift rope-work, within seconds the delivery boy is strung up and suspended to the ceiling, limbs stretched open, body fully exposed and vulnerable, ready to take anything.

The snow-bitch lets out a gasp, then a dull moan, soaking in the new, burning sensation.

Suddenly a flogger comes down and strikes him in the back. Then a paddle. Hands and implements come from every direction. The Girls waste no time warming up their new toy. The harder they go, the more his face contorts into pleas for more.

The amount of attention his pathetic yet sensitive body was receiving was overwhelming! It was nothing he had ever experienced in his boring, mundane existence. Something deep inside was being sparked to life. A visceral shift in his mind and body… It hurt, but the more he was poked and prodded at, the ever-increasing, curious desire for more took over.

He was at a loss for words. The only thing he could muster up was:

“Thank….YOU.”

Because that’s how he simply felt. Just utterly, and truthfully grateful for this dreamy, surreal exploit…

Cynthia tightens the ropes, spreading him out even more. She reaches for a pair of nipple clamps and secures them in place, pinching each erect nipple tightly under Her grip.

The snowman lets out a whimper, mouth agape, panting and practically drooling at this point.

“N..no...please...”

The snowmans body goes limp, releasing any resistance, allowing the tight ropes to carry and cradle his weight. It felt so good just to let go…

“Please, what?” Goddess Cynthia asks, Her gaze still as strong as ever.

All his tiny brain could muster up was the word: “More...”

And just like that, The Girls go harder, and faster.

A hand comes down and bitch-slaps across his already burning red-cheeks.

His vision goes blurry as he starts tearing up from the prickling pain. His head starts spinning. His body and mind high off the rush of pain, pleasure, and adrenaline. His tiny, yet hard little carrot pulsating and practically oozing with each passing second. All he sees are dark, shadowy angels dancing around him, laughing, taunting, and teasing his senses with their heavenly bodies and painful instruments. Never did he think he’d ever end up in this twisted, yet blissful state of being. Never did he think it actually existed. He stopped questioning it altogether, and continued to let go of the tight grip he had on reality.

“M...m...more...”

Natashas slender hand grips a thick wooden paddle and holds it high. She swings from behind him and WHACKS him HARD across his burning, red, sweating ass.

And then, finally…

Almost as if She smacks it right out of him, the snowman completely THAWS, his fluids splashing into a giant, milky puddle below him. His body goes soft, his jaw slack, his mind...blank. The room goes quiet for a moment as Cynthia slowly lowers the rest of the snow-bitch to the floor.

And again, right on cue, sissy daisy comes scurrying down the stairs, silver tray in hand. The girls burst out laughing, proudly admiring their work. They take their glasses and toast once again to their Greatness, while the snowman, uh, recovers from his unexpected Christmas miracle.

“Seasons Beatings, little snow-bitch.” Declare the Girls, as they gave him a wink before waltzing back upstairs for more holiday festivities.

And just like that, a lucky little snowmans heart and soul were melted that day, forever changed and transformed unlike anything his tiny brain could fathom. From then on, the snowman was so grateful, he felt it was only right that he quit his job and dedicate the rest of his existence to serving the surreal Goddesses that opened his eyes to new possibilities, and new types of fun! - The Soho Mean Girls xoxo

An absolute dream job for women everywhere, being a Professional Dominatrix is one of the most liberating, exciting, and confidence-inducing jobs out there for females looking for something outside the box.

If you ever wanted a gig where YOU are in control, feel confident, and LOVE what you do, then working alongside the Soho Mean Girls could be the opportunity of a life-time.

Have submissive men literally kiss the ground you walk on. Be worshipped like the Goddess you are. Feel empowered and enlightened by taking control of your mind, body, income, and life.

The Soho Mean Girls have been active in the BDSM/Kink community for years. We have women from all walks of life in our collective, with all different skill levels and talents. We aim to keep our collective a professional, safe, private, and diverse space where everyone can come together and practice kink without fear or judgment.

We will dispel any misconceptions about Femdom/BDSM, and aim to teach and mentor those who wish to learn the craft in a safe, sane, professional, and legal way.

Femdom is not just throwing a whip around and seeing where it lands. It is more than just physical BDSM play. It takes a commanding, dominant, and strong personality as well. After all, Femdom stands for "Female Dominant".

We provide full training, showing you the basics of BDSM, safe equipment usage, kinks and fetishes, and how to make submissive men fall to their knees with just one look...

Not only will you learn vital skills to unleash your inner dominance, but encourage you to build confidence, strength, character, knowledge, and inner-power. So many have had their lives transformed and their possibilities opened up with these important life-skills!

Potentials MUST BE:

A leader. Someone who is able to take control of any situation or person in a professional, calm, and focused matter.

Educated and informed about all aspects of Femdom, BDSM, fetishes, and alternative lifestyles OR willingness to learn.

Has the time, energy, and commitment to take on this role. MUST have consistent schedule and availability. We try to be flexible when it comes to scheduling, but you MUST have the time commitment.

Comfortable with an internet presence; having photos and images of yourself on the website and social media. While we totally respect your privacy, part of the gig is to get yourself out there and be seen. Any concerns or questions about this, please email us.

Ideally must have some type of fetish-wear, or willingness to invest in appropriate attire. (Latex, Leather, PVC, Lingerie, Stockings/Fishnets, Garters, Stilettos, Boot-Heels, Gloves, Corsets, Waist Cinchers, Catsuits, Bodysuits, Mini-Skirts, Harnesses, Jewelry, just to name a few)

Clean and well-kept.

Friendly, social, supportive, and have a group-mentality.

Business-savy (not required but encouraged).

For consideration, please email: soho.mean.girls@gmail.com

EMAILS MUST INCLUDE: Preferred name, contact info, phone number, age, availability, skill level, full body AND face photos, links to social media (optional), and why you think you would make a great fit for our collective. We encourage you to be as open and honest as you like. *Emails with missing info will not be considered.

*** PEOPLE WHO ARE MAN-HATERS, IGNORANT, CLOSE-MINDED, LIARS, CHEATERS, CRIMINALS, DISRESPECTFUL, RACIST, HOMOPHOBIC, PREJUDICE, OR UNPROFESSIONAL NEED NOT APPLY. We do not tolerate ANY of that behavior, and you will be terminated immediately if we find this to be you.

Deep within an undisclosed NYC high rise apartment, The Soho Mean Girls lounge about in a sleek, modern, warmly lit living room. Some of the Girls are sipping Champagne, others are gossiping about Domme life, business tactics, current events, and recent Femdom sessions of the past.

But none, however, are lifting a finger to do actual work. You see, Femdoms are the superior beings, and everyone knows that in the world of Female Domination, males are the ones who cater to the Females, dedicating their entire lives and suffering to make Womens lives better! That's where our little house sissy comes in…

The tattooed, raven-haired Goddess, Mistress Vivian, lounges on the couch with her laptop. She rattles a little golden bell and calls, “daisy!”

daisy waltzes in from the kitchen promptly. A chubby yet feeble-framed looking male squeezed into a baby pink and white lacy French maid outfit, with sheer white stockings and a frilly bow atop his thinning brown hair to match. his rosy cheeks are checkered with spots of adult acne. he only stands at 5’5” in his pink ballet slippers, a mouse compared to the long, slender high-heel-cladden Goddesses towering around him. Lets just say, he’s physically disappointing in every way. Typical of an inferior beta male!

To put it simply, the name, ‘daisy’, was the brainchild of Mistress Victoria, who thought it would not only be super emasculating, but dainty and delicate sounding, just like the sissy’s weak ego, body, and malleable mind.

daisy stands up straight in front of the Girls, grabs the frill of his dress and curtseys; a respectful gesture drilled into his head thanks to the intense training of Mistress Mila, who has conditioned him to always curtsey when entering and leaving a room of Femdoms. Being a Supreme Humiliatrix, training daisy was like training a scrawny, lost puppy; desperate for guidance, female attention, and lifes purpose.

“daisy,” Vivian calls again. “My glass needs refilling. Stat.”

“C-certainly Mistress.” replies daisy.

And just like that, daisy shuffles over to the coffee table, picks up a bottle of Dom Perignon, and gently pours it into Her glass.

“Here you go Mistress.”

Vivian barely pays him any mind as She continues typing on her laptop. She shoos him away.

Daisy bows her head. “Thank you Mistress.”

For someone like daisy, this was true paradise. Being surrounded by powerful Females and being invited into Their world was an incredible privilege and dream for a little sissy beta male. Having any sort of attention from Women, was not something daisy had in his waking life, because of obvious reasons. A fragile ego, unseemly body, inadequate sexual parts... the list goes on! daisy was just a weak little beta fish in a world of Alphas, and Real Women would never look his way.

So, he had to find other ways to please the Females he looked up to and admired, by serving and becoming their little bitch instead!

Mistress Lady Luger, with hair just as colorful as Her audacious personality, comes marching in from another room, Her platform stiletto boots clicking on the hardwood floor. Even post-session, She was glowing. Her flawless face and beaming blue eyes glistening. She snaps her long fingernails and points to a door.

“Equipment needs cleaning, sissy bitch.”

Right on cue, daisy comes running with a tall glass of ice water and hands it to Luger, making sure she’s hydrated and comfortable after Her session, before running inside to clean. It was daisy’s intention to go above and beyond to make sure his Goddesses don’t waste energy on anything, even as small as pouring a glass of water. he knew his job, his place, and his destiny all too well.

And so, as the day progressed, daisy waited on hand and foot (and sometimes on all fours) for all the Mistresses, toiling and working his hardest to meet their demands.

Fingers snapped and bells chimed, and daisy would always come running. For he knew that if he screwed up even the most basic task, he would find himself severely punished in any diabolical way the Mistresses saw fit.

“Daisy, fluff Our pillows.”

“Daisy, massage Our feet!”

“Daisy, fold Our clothes!”

“Daisy, pour Us drinks.”

“Daisy, prepare Our dinner!”

Most people would find this sort of treatment incredibly tedious, emasculating or even degrading, but it was all music to daisy’s ears.

As the day progressed, as sessions came and went, despite how hard and tiresome the labor became, daisy never stopped, but instead, felt deep satisfaction, as if a flame was ignited deep inside.

As if reading his mind, a long dark-haired, dark-eyed Goddess steps out of the bathroom, donning a black silk robe, emerging from a cloud of steam. Like walking out of a dream, daisy laid his unworthy eyes on his main Owner, enraptured by Her authoritative aura and charm. his dream Domina. his secret sissy crush. The One who taught him his lifes purpose.

Miss Mila.

“daisy!” Mila barks, Her deep voice confident and stern. “Are you familiar with painting the toes of a Goddess?” She waves a bottle of shimmering red nail varnish and strides across the room propping Herself in a tufted arm-chair.

Daisy snaps out of his day dream and hesitates.

“W-well, im n-not sure M-miss, but I could learn.”

Milas dark cat-eyes narrow as She reaches for Her favorite wooden paddle on the coffee table.

“You will learn, you pathetic stuttering mess.” She points a finger at daisy in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Get over here...:”

daisy glides over as if being pulled on an imaginary leash. he falls to Milas feet, cowering under Her on all fours. She lifts one slender foot and waves it in his face.

The feeling was so right, being under the feet of a Goddess. And suddenly, daisy couldn’t help but feel aroused. He freezes for a second, admiring the breathtaking view from under Mila’s gorgeous soles. She stares back with her sultry, immensely sadistic eyes. Her grip tightens around the paddle, playing with it in her hands.

“Well? Get to work, bitch.”

Just as daisy is about to open the nail polish, something warm and wet wells up in the crotch of his panties. A clear drop falls from under his frilly skirt and lands onto the white carpet under them.

Daisy freezes with fear, realizing what just happened, but is too late. Milas gaze falls to the floor. Her eyes widen.

“Did you just....” Her voice rising now, Mila slowly gets up from the armchair and towers over the sissy, who is nearly shaking below Her on his knees. He hastily attempts to wipe the wetness off with the hem of his dress. In a matter of seconds, Milas hand comes down and backhands him so hard across the face he sees white.

“You little slut!”

daisy slowly comes to, shocked and dazed.

“Hey girls! Look!” Milas voice booms. Before daisy could even react, Mila grabs him by the ear and pulls him up, then lifts up daisy’s dress for everyone to see.

Just as suspected, a wet spot in the center of daisys panties oozes a string of pre-cum down his trembling legs.

“This little bitch wet her panties!”

And just like that, everyone in the room bursts out laughing. Some point, some gasp, others cover their mouths in astonishment.

Daisy, still in shock, looks down, cheeks burning red with embarrassment and the stinging pain of the slap. Too humiliated and ashamed to look into the laughing faces of his Goddesses.

For most Femdoms, this was a spectacle you see almost every day, as a result of toying, teasing, and torturing poor pathetic beta males who come to be dominated by beings far superior to themselves. To some, this was just clockwork. But to the Soho Mean Girls, this type of extreme humiliation never gets old! But this was just the beginning...

Mila throws Her head back and lets out a laugh, then leans down and yanks the panties down to daisy’s ankles, exposing an unusually small pink chastity cage. Within the cage, a tiny pathetic excuse for a “dick” squirms around, throbbing against the tight metal bars, aching for some sort of touch or release.

“No wonder his only use is to serve Us!” Mistress Evelyn snickers and points towards the cage. “That thing is useless!”

The sounds of giggling and laughing surround daisy. But the more they laugh at his expense, the harder his little dicklet becomes, pressing deeper into the walls of the tight cage, begging for release.

“Bend over, bitch.”

Mila takes daisy by the back of the neck and pushes him down against the coffee table. Daisy doesn’t resist, accepting his well-deserved punishment. He bends over, face down, exposing his flabby, yet smoothly shaven ass.

Mila reaches for the wooden paddle on the table, the corners of Her mouth twisting into a smirk. “You like making sissy messes, you dirty slut?”

daisy had no words he could possible say to convince his Owner of how sorry he was. He knew taking his inevitable punishment was the only apology he could offer.

The sheer power of the paddle’s blow thrusts daisy’s body into the table. The smack radiates through the living room.

he lets out a high-pitched whimper, akin to a dog toy being squeezed.

Before daisy could give another pathetic excuse for his defective sexual organ, Mila rears the paddle high over Her head, and swings it down again.

“WHOOOOSH”

THEN

“BOOM!”

Another SQUEAK emits from daisy. The room fills up with snickers and giggles and laughter once again as the Dominas watch this pitiful yet entertaining scene. With each impact, stronger and more powerful than the last, the Girls couldn’t tell if daisy was being pushed deeper and deeper into the table, or if he was humping it. Either way, daisy’s chastity cage was being shoved and rubbed into the side of the table. As pitiful as it sounded, daisy was secretly elated at some sort of stimulation against his throbbing worm, even if it was just a lifeless, wooden table. PATHETIC!

“Here,” Lady Luger chimes in. She flips her sapphire blue hair out of her mischievous face, smiling wide. “Allow Me to hold this tramp in place.”

She marches over and straddles the sissy, then props Her perfect ass on his back as if sitting on a cushion. daisy struggles to breath, overstimulated and even more aroused by the feeling of Lugers smooth latex leggings sinking deep into his back. How close yet so far he was!

And so, the beating continued.

SMACK….

SMACK….

SMACK…!

With each hit sending tremors and shockwaves through the helpless sissy, his ass turning bright scarlet, Mila couldn’t help but beam with amusement.

Daisys eyes started to well up with tears, not only from the pain, but the amount of mental, physical, and psychological stimulation was almost too much to bear. It was like the ingenious Miss Mila had infiltrated his thoughts and saw every little dirty secret he was trying to hide, and manifested them into reality. So many emotions flooded his trembling mind and body: Fear, pain, arousal, joy, guilt, satisfaction, comfort, shock, awe, ecstasy. The swirling accumulation of feelings juxtaposing inside of him.

Suddenly, the sissy lets out a gasp, his body seizing up as an explosion of energy surges from his swollen sissy balls and little worm. The sweet release of being pent up for days. Days and days of hard work, worship, suffering, and dreaming. Dreaming of this final moment.

The beating ceases, and the room is quiet. Mila gazes down at the mound of bows, frills, sweat, and tears below Her, laying in a puddle of cum. As disappointed as She was about daisy coming without Her permission, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sad, yet satisfying spectacle She induced. She swung the paddle and gave the sissy one last WHACK for the premature release, then settled down in her armchair and kicked her feet up on top of his catatonic body, who was still in a state of painful euphoric sub-space.

Mila takes a deep breath.

“Now...where were we?” She smiles and places the bottle of ruby red nail varnish on the table next to daisy’s drooling face.

The rest of the Goddesses continue to go about their business, happy to have another hilarious, debaucherous story to gossip about later on.

After jackie the maid took a few weeks off from serving Me, Mistress Sybil, I knew he had a lot of work to do to make it up to Me and My fellow Dominas. So, in addition to the two bottles of chilled white wine and lacey panties he usually brings with him to sessions, I instructed him to bring a lavish cheese and cracker spread as well. He impressed Me by also bringing some fresh blueberries to complement the cheese.

After performing his usual duties of tidying and doing dishes in his lace red slip and cheeky black panties, and serving each Mistress a glass of wine on his knees, I instructed jackie to present Me with the cheese and crackers, take off his slip, and to get on all fours. I could see him biting his lip, eager to be humiliated and used. Without a word, I began arranging the cheese and cracker spread on his back, and chuckled as I noticed his little clittie grow inside his panties. I pointed it out to all my fellow Dominas, who made a point of making fun of him for so deeply enjoying Our humiliation.

After I had taken my time to delicately arrange the spread, I invited my fellow Dominas to join me around our new table. For nearly an hour, we enjoyed an elegant dinner party with delicious cheese, crackers, blueberries & wine; acknowledging Jackie only when the table would slope from rigid 90 degree angles, or when we Females needed our wine refilled (our table that held food and refilled wine - how useful!)

Below enjoy some of the humiliating and decadent photos of the Soho Mean Girls enjoying our wine and cheese at jackie the maid’s expense...

After arriving 15 minutes late, I knew I had to start my session with slave whip bitch with proper punishment.

When I opened the door, slave whip bitch’s eyes followed My torso up to My condescending gaze, at first in awe of My beauty and then ashamed of his foolishness. He averted his eyes like a puppy. I relished in the fact he was already my little dog.

“You’re late, and it’s unacceptable to make your Mistress wait.”“i’m so sorry, Miss, there was traffic and I couldn’t find park-…”“Shut up” I snapped, and grabbed the bottom of his mouth, forcing him to look me in the eyes. I could feel him quiver in my hands. “You will make it up to me by taking whatever punishment I give you today, no matter how much it hurts. Do you understand?”“Yes, Mistress, I do Mistress.” I snickered, sensing his desperate need to please and do anything for Me. He had not even stepped in the door and he was already under My spell.

After undressing, he scurried over to me and knelt at my feet, without my asking. Satisfied, I told him to stare at my boots – 6” black, platform leather heels a slave had bought me earlier that month.

“Do NOT touch them,” I warned, “that is a privilege you are not even close to earning. Iwant you to look at them and remember that if you are lucky, you’ll have the chance to lick the dirt off the bottom.”

He admired the boots, with his eyes wide open like a dog eying up his favorite treat. Only his obsessive will to serve Me stopped him from indulging his desire to lick My boots then and there.

“Yes Mistress, I would love nothing more to lick every morsel of dirt from Your divine boots,” he whimpered. “How about you show me, not tell me, slave. Follow me to the bed and don’t forget to crawl.” The slave scrambled eagerly behind me, and hopped onto the bed. I instructed him to lie out like across – so that his genitals be helplessly exposed. I tied up his testicles and penis tightly, making sure to chastise him for his pathetic, tiny penis that could never pleasure any woman, and enjoyed watching it bulge from My skillful rope work. Kneeling over him, allowing him to gaze at my thighs placed firmly on either side of him, I squeezed his nipples shut with nipple clamps, and tied the remaining rope from his genitals to the nipple clamp chain.

“Now,” I explained, admiring my work, “any time you squirm, your balls will be squeezed and nipples yanked. You will have no option but to take my punishment” Realizing how powerless he was now, the slave gazed at me in wonder and fear. Squeezing his balls in my hand, I commanded, “Turn around and stick that pathetic ass in the air.”

As he struggled to turn around without squeezing his testicles or nipples, I went to My torture table to inspect the potential tools I could employ for his punishment. I let my fingers graze over the floggers, pinwheels, riding crops, whips, and canes until it landed on the solid wooden paddle. After all, there’s nothing quite like a good, old fashioned spanking.

Walking back, I explained the rules for our little game, “Each time I spank you, you are going to yell ‘i shall never be late for Mistress again.’ And I want you to think about what you’ve done. Remember that you deserve this and more.”

“Yes, Mistress Sybil. Anything, Mistress Sybil.”I towered above him, 6’ 5” in my boots, luxuriating in the power I held over this naked, pathetic, vulnerable man. I could not wait to turn his ass a deep, sinful red. Running the corner of the paddle down his spine to his ass cheeks, I searched for the perfect place to deliver my punishment, building up the suspense…then...

SMACK!

“I shall never be late for Mistress again!” the slave called out dutifully. First one down, as many more as his Divine Goddess desires more to go.I spanked him again, harder. This time he twitched, causing My masterpiece to yank hard on his nipples and balls. “Aaaaaaaaargh i will never be late for Mistress again!”“You see? I told you. Hold. Still.” As I continued spanking his worthless, bare ass I saw his cock begin to grow. I laughed, thinking that obedient subbies like this one get off even as the pain goes beyond bearable, so long as their pain is in service to a powerful, beautiful woman.

And so, I wailed on him even harder until at last, his sorry ass was a dark scarlet and his apologies little more than whimpers. My finger nails dug into his back, grazing his skin as I walked around to face him. Sitting on the headboard, I lifted my boots up to his face “you took my punishment like a good little boy. you have pleased your Mistress. You may take your reward: two kisses on each boot”

M’s face filled with satisfaction – even with the stinging pain of his ass, the thought of pleasing his Mistress was enough to make it all worth it. As he adoringly kissed my boots, I realized that if I told him he had to take 100 more spankings he would offer himself to me again without a moment’s hesitation.

“So what have we learned today, little slave bitch?”“That I will never…be late…for Mistress...again.”

In this section, you will find rants, raves, stories, news, and updates on The Soho Mean Girls, and what sinfully provocative experiences We encounter on a daily basis with the subbies who can't help but adore Us. Let Us take you down endless roads of fantasy, perversion, and debaucherous encounters. In Our kingdom, the Soho Mean Girls hold absolute rule, and you, Our subordinates, are Our helpless followers and die-hard fans. Read on to step into Our realm of pain, pleasure, and ultimate Female Dominion...

All names and identities have been changed for the sake of privacy, unless otherwise stated. Enjoy ;)